


Malware

by Veeebles



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coping, Established Relationship, M/M, Mr Robot - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Tyrell POV, Tyrell loves Elliot, disorder, post 2nd season finale, split personality, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:57:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9910235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veeebles/pseuds/Veeebles
Summary: He’s quiet, sitting still. I reach for the cigarette, pull it from his fingers and take a long drag, sighing as my lungs are filled and my head clears a little.“I told you this story once before,” I tell him, smiling at the memory of Elliot rolling around naked in the bed, shaking with mirth, “You laughed so hard you nearly fell off the bed.”He frowns and stares off in front of him, no doubt surprised to hear he laughed freely around me.“I wish I could remember.”





	

I knock quietly on the door to his apartment, waiting patiently, ears trained on every noise beyond the thin wood. I hear feet shuffle close then the lock turns and the door opens and there he is. He looks so small in his hoodie, smiling up at me tiredly, those big eyes full of warmth.

I try not to visibly show my relief when I see it’s _my_ Elliot that is there, still not used to the other one’s absence.

“Hey, Tyrell,” his voice is soft, that sweet, velvety tone of his, “come in,” he steps back, opening the door further for me to slip through.

He shuts and locks the door behind me and I kick off my shoes out of habit, nudging them to the side of the door and strip off my blazer, handing it to him who hangs it up above my shoes. I open my mouth to speak but I’m interrupted by his mouth on mine.

The kiss is sweet, familiar, a re-acquaintance with his lover.

His arms circle my neck and my hands find his waist, pulling his body against mine, delighting in the feel of him under my fingers, against my chest. He sighs softly against my lips and I smile into the kiss, slowing it down to a natural stop, resting my forehead against his when it ceases. I let myself concentrate on how he feels in my arms, how his body fits just right against me, how his waist feels so soft and wonderful beneath my palms, how he smells so good.

“I missed you,” he says, kissing the corner of my jaw softly, arms still around my neck.

My chest warms and a bubble of happiness grows at his simple words, spreading along my limbs, right down to my fingertips and toes, every cell in my body singing with adoration for this man.

It had only been a week since I last saw him last, but every passing day the frustration had built inside me more and more. Before, I would have found some sleazy club, hooked up with some random guy and vented my frustration that way, but not now, not anymore. No one did it for me quite like Elliot did, I simply didn’t want anyone else and would not be satisfied until it was Elliot.  

“I missed you too, älskling,” I tell him, and the warm feeling in my chest burns brighter when he smiles at the term of endearment I’ve gotten into the habit of calling him.

He pulls me down to him and kisses me again, firmer this time, holding me tighter. I respond instantly, my hunger for him coming back to the front of my consciousness as the kiss grows. Elliot is making little noises that vibrate against my lips and through my soul, his hips pressing harder against mine, his arousal growing against my thigh. My skin starts a slow tingle, that grows into a burn like an electric current, coursing through my veins, my blood singing with my desire for him.

His fingers move into my hair, messing up my carefully done style, tugging at my strands and sending shivers down my spine. His kiss is full of desperate hunger that mirrors my own, my desperation for this man overwhelming. I physically ache with the need for this, he is all I can think of every second of every day. These lips, his taste, his body, everything about him infects my system until I can’t find relief to this aching torture until I have him in my arms again, against my mouth, moaning my name in that perfect way he does.

My hands tug his hoodie and t-shirt over his head, his hands moving to rip my shirt from my shoulders, throwing it carelessly on the floor, hands on my chest, a mouth following, his wonderful mouth biting and sucking and kissing every inch of me he can reach. My hands make a constant caress of his skin, revelling in his softness, muscles rippling under my ministrations.

I breath in ragged breaths, head thrown back, eyes closing and a moan escaping me as his mouth wraps around my nipple, sucking and scraping his teeth, sending heat shooting straight to my groin. His bare skin against mine is maddening, causing a friction that makes me want more and more.

I grip a handful of his hair, tugging his head back from my chest, bringing his face to mine and my heart skips a beat at the look he gives me, his lips red and wet, mouth open and eyes hooded, so wrecked and I haven’t even begun with him yet.

I lick into his mouth and his fingers cling to me, his tongue moving with mine, his moans wanton and beautiful. My fist still in his hair gives a small tug and he groans, bucking into me again and it ignites that animal part of me.

I bite down on his lips and suck hard, my hands moving down to his ass, grabbing his cheeks and grinding him against me, we both moan at the contact, I suck harder, biting down again before releasing him, cock throbbing at the sight of his wet, bruised mouth, his breathing coming out harsh, those big eyes so dark with how much he wants me.

He throws himself at me, smashing our lips together again, teeth clacking as he takes what he wants from me. I stumble and feel my back hit the wall and his body presses against me so deliciously it takes all my control not to rip his jeans off and enter him dry right there, fuck him until he’s screaming for me.

“Fuck, Tyrell,” I could come just from hearing him say my name like that, just from seeing him like this; so desperate for me, so wanton, so _wrecked._

His hands are undoing my belt and I lean back as he rips my trousers and underwear down to my ankles, following them as he kneels before me. I lean back against the wall, watching him on his knees for me, looking up at me with those phenomenal eyes, my cock brushing against his chin obscenely, cum leaking from my tip with how fucking much he turns me on.

He licks me from base to tip and I thump my head back against the wall, hands clenching into fists at my sides with his teasing, I look down again to see a wet, pink tongue lick at me again, and again until I’m bucking forwards, desperately seeking the relief I crave so much.

He gins up at me and I almost lose it and just grab him to me then he envelops me in that warm, wet mouth and my mind goes blank. I moan and moan as he sucks me, the warm pressure of his mouth just right, his head bobbing back and forth, vibrations renovating through me as he makes his little noises. He sucks me harder and faster and I am fascinated with watching how his lips stretch around me, how his cheeks hollow and his bones are so prominent beneath, how his eyes are on me always, openly boring into my soul, a connection so deep and intimate I can’t look away.

His hands come up to hold my thighs and he digs his nails in, scraping down from the curve of my ass to the back of my knees, making me shiver and shout at the lightly burning pain and my cock to twitch in his mouth.

God damn he knows me so well, but I know him too.

I fist his hair again and he groans so low and long at the tug at his scalp that I nearly double over. Instead, I fist my other hand in his dark locks, and pull him closer to me, watching with growing captivation as my length disappears into that mouth, feeling the back of his throat, his nose pressing against my groin, eyes watering at he still looks up at me.

I pull out slowly, his cheeks hollowing again and I tremble as I feel him increase the suction. I pull myself out until the base of my head is beginning to re-appear then I push back in again, feeling his throat flex and tighten but he doesn’t; push me away, just breaths through his nose, adjusts how he kneels and holds onto my thighs again. He’s still looking up at me in that way and I push in and out, fucking his mouth, gasping at my beautiful boy, taking me so well, so fast and so good.

Before long I feel the pressure building inside me, my limbs tingling deliciously, my release building closer and closer. I pull away before I can finish, my length released from his mouth with a wet pop and I sag back against the wall, panting and watching him watch me.

He kneels there, breathing hard through parted, swollen lips, salvia and some of my pre-cum dripping from his mouth, dripping onto his chest. He looks so fucking good.

I grab him and pull him to his feet, kissing his wet mouth harshly colliding with him, stumbling towards the general direction of his bed, kicking off my trousers from around my ankles and my hands frantically undoing the belt to his. My toe hits the bed and I push him down on it hard, watching him bounce on top of the covers. My hands rip those tight, tight jeans from him, underwear and all and I kick off my shoes before crawling on top of him, covering his body with mine.

I could kiss him for days, I decide, when he licks at my teeth, sucks on my tongue, bites at my lips. His nails drag down my arms, leaving angry red lines there and sending shivers and jolts of electricity straight to my weeping cock. I palm his member and bite his neck when he throws his head back in a moan, baring his neck for me to mark. I suck hard here and there, him bucking wildly beneath me as I leave dark bruises behind, the kind that won’t disappear for days, that will help him remember these moments when we’re done.

I pull away when his hand strays to his cock, desperate to relieve the burning ache from himself. I smirk at him and flip him onto his stomach without warning, pulling his hips up so his ass in in the air, his weight braced on his chest, his cock bobbing against nothing, no relief for him yet.

“Fuck me, Tyrell,” he moans out desperately, head turned to look at me, eyes pleading, “please fuck me…I can’t take it…need you…mnn…need you in me…fill me…. please, Tyrell…please.”

I run a hand down the soft slope of his back as I listen to him, my head tilted back, eyes closed so his voice is all I am concentrated on. Fuck, I love it when he gets like this; no more the serious, brooding, quiet Elliot but _my_ whining, desperate, fucking incredible Elliot that begs and screams for me and makes me crazier than anyone or anything else in this fucked up world.

My hands run down to that ass of his, spreading his cheeks to see his hole, pulsing and begging for me to fill it.

“God, you’re so perfect,” I whisper to him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his buttocks, watching him keen and press into the contact, “my perfect, perfect, Elliot.”

He shivers when I say his name and I lick a fat strip from his balls to his hole, listening to his noises.

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” he grunts, making me grin.

I lick him again and again, sucking around the tight ring of muscles then pushing my tongue in, grinning when he pushes back against me, desperately seeking more. I suck a finger and sink it in, curling it until I find that little part that makes him jump and gasp and moan and push back against my fingers, wanting more.

I watch Elliot screw his eyes shut against the burn as I slide in two, then three fingers. I try to aid his discomfort by leaning down and licking at him again, working him open for me with my fingers and tongue. It seems to do the trick since next he’s bouncing back against my hand, his noises coming louder and frequently, his legs twitching.

I pull away and he groans long and loud at the loss of contact, so close to his release but not quite there.

I spit in my palm and slick myself up hurriedly, lining up and pushing past his wet, tight ring of muscles. He whimpers at the burn but still pushes back against me, hands fisting the bedsheets beneath him.

“Fuck, Elliot, fuck, fuck, so tight, so good…”

I fall forwards, plastering my chest against his back, resting my forehead between his shoulder blades, sliding in slowly, that torturous pull of his tight heat, the lack of proper lubrication adding a burn that had me throbbing as I sheath myself inside him.

I kiss his back and raise up onto my knees to look at him. He has his hands gripping the pillow he rests against, he’s breathing hard, eyes screwed shut, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. I worry I’ve hurt him too much and go to pull out but then he’s moving, dragging me in and out of him slowly, so slowly, the steady wave of pleasure building and building within me.

I pull out and slam back in, Elliot letting out a shout, moaning, wiggling his hips, pushing back against me wanting more and more. He’s so fucking tight, I could lose myself in this feeling.

“Again, Tyrell…fuck me…harder…”

That fire flares in me again and I’m out of control, picking up my pace, driving in and out of my beloved, the constant pressure and heat making me dizzy. My nails drag down his back and he arches into it, mouth wide, gasping for air. My head if filled with his breathless moans and how he feels wrapped around me.

I pull out, ignoring his whine to flip him onto his back, needing to see that face. He spreads his legs either side of me and there’s those big, beautiful eyes. I enter him again, sheathing myself in one, quick motion.

Elliot grabs at me, yanking me down to cover his body, panting into my mouth, grinding up against me as I hit that special spot inside him. My fingers grip his hips and I’m moving in and out, fucking his ass deep and hard as I can. Sweat sheens his skin and he looks up at me, panting and moaning. He grips himself in one hand and begins to stroke himself, eyes closing as he arches back in pleasure, matching his movements to my thrusts. The sight of him is enough to drive me mad.

“Fuck, Elliot, you’re perfect…feels so good…I can’t get enough.”

I feel his legs begin to tremble as I hit that spot inside him over and over and over again. His moans become louder and louder. The air is hot, Elliot is gripping the sheets beneath him with one hand, the other thumbing his wet tip, bringing it up to his mouth to taste himself, dark eyes never breaking contact. I groan at the sight of him sucking on his thumb and he grins, returning to his bouncing shaft, stroking himself fast, mouth agape, eyes blown wide, moaning and moaning my name.

He spurs me on and I fuck him harder, deeper, faster. My hair sticks to my sweaty forehead, the slap of my skin against his, the smell of him, the sight sound, all of my senses invaded by him. He gasps with each thrust into his sweet spot I give him and he’s so beautiful like this.

“Come inside me, Tyrell,” he gasps out, throwing his head back, still pumping himself with my thrusts, “let me feel you.”

I had fucked plenty of people before him, but no one could even come close to him. My beloved Elliot. Never had I felt this alive, this safe, this contented. My skin itched when I wasn’t around him, and my world grinded to a halt when I was. No one had ever made me feel this way, this _much_. His kisses set my skin alight, his touch soothes and burns, everything about him drives me mad, makes me a desperate man, needing more and more of him. I was never satisfied, I could be deep inside him, his arms and legs wrapped around me and his mouth against mine and I still want more of him, need it like I need air. I want to consume him, melt into him and fuse him with my soul so he could never leave me, let his skin burn and scar me so I could never forget him.

His words surge something deep inside me that sets a delicious tingle through my limbs, right to my fingertips and toes. I feel my release building inside me faster and faster. He’s moaning louder and I shout when his walls tighten around me and he releases all over his stomach and chest, my name a loud moan on his tongue, his hips still bucking wildly as I continue to pound into him.

The sight of him sends me over the edge and I come hard inside him, seeing stars as I fill him like he wanted.

“Jag älskar dig! Jag älskar dig, Jag älskar dig…Jag älskar dig…” I say it over and over and over, my voice falling to a mumble against his skin as I sag against him, not caring that his sticky cum is all over my chest. I lie panting against him, grinning lazily into his skin. His hand is in my hair, half-heartedly twining his fingers through. His legs are still twitching and his skin is hot and damp with sweat.

I raise myself onto my elbows and grin up at him, his big eyes half closed as he watches me watch him. I lean down and lick a stripe through the still wet cum on his stomach and he groans at the sight, hand coming to cup my cheek, thumbing my wet lips as he watches me swallow him down. I continue my ministrations, licking up all of his release, moving up to his chest, sucking and nipping here and there until he loses patience with me and grabs my face, surging forwards to kiss me firmly.

I chuckle against his lips but kiss him back, revelling in him.

He pulls away and kisses the tip of my nose softly, big, hazel eyes on mine.

“Jag älskar dig också,” he mumbles out, shyly, cheeks reddening.

That bubble of happiness bursts inside me and I feel as light as a feather, like I’m floating, I feel warm and tingly and I feel so much adoration for this man I don’t even know what to do with it. His accent was thick and he mis-pronounced some words a little but I couldn’t care less, the fact that he had learned it and tried it to please me made me soar.

I kiss him again and he holds me to him, smiling against me.

“Thank you,” I whisper and chuckle when his ears go red.

I return to my place between his legs, my head resting on his stomach, moving up and down with his steady breathing. My arms are wrapped around his waist, his light body held tight to me. I rub my cheek against his softness and his hands tangle in my hair, lazily playing with my strands, nails lightly scraping my scalp. I close my eyes to his ministrations, enjoying the soothing attention.

I kiss his skin softly, not with any purpose, not needing this to lead anywhere, just wanting to feel his skin against my skin, kiss his softness and hold him to me. My lips move from soft to puckered, rough skin and I stiffen. His fingers falter in my hair but only momentarily, then they are moving again, making wider circles, caressing me more assuredly and I know it is a reassurance, he knows the guilt is flooding me right now.

I kiss the scar that forever marks where my bullet had sunk into his skin. I resist digging my nails into myself, resist the tears and the lump that threatens to come.

They come anyway when he pulls me up his body, kissing me firmly and cradling my head in his warm hands, fingertips at the base of my skull, palms over my ears like he’s trying to block out the rest of the world from my head.

 I cling to him and kiss him back, the tears wetting both our cheeks.

“I wish you wouldn’t…” he says softly, fingers tracing the lines of my tears, wiping them away, “you had to.”

I nod but it doesn’t ease the guilt. I still remember the crippling fear I had felt that day, gnawing away at me while I waited to hear if I had success, whether he was dead or alive.

 

 

V

 

 

_“Hello?”_

_I close my eyes at the sound of her voice, feeling the relief akin to that of a child when their parent comes to their aid in a moment of distress. My throat contracts and I find himself unable to speak around the painful lump wedged there. Tears are falling down my cheeks like a river, I can’t stop them. I grip the phone in my hand like it is a lifeline, staring down at the body lying before me, sleeping peaceful in the gurney._

_“Don’t worry, it’s Angela”_

_The room feels hot and stuffy, like there is no oxygen anywhere. I am shaking and I can’t breathe around this pain in my throat, the burning behind my eyes, the pressure in my chest and I can’t look away from him._

_“Tyrell.”_

_God, why did he make me do this? Why did it have to come to this? We had always prepared for it, I had shaken as Elliot had placed the cold gun in my hand, lifting his shirt to point where I should aim, Angela nodding to me as she stood behind him, face serious, brow wrinkled as she watched me, willing me to obey, to have the strength. We had all prepared for it, but I had never thought it would actually come to it._

_“Tyrell, are you there?”_

_My body is seized with panic, my legs carrying me around the room, pacing as I breathe hard, swallowing the lump, sniffing, trying to regain my senses. I resist the urge to slap my face, instead balling my fist until my nails dig into my skin hard. I focused on that pain, letting all this negativity seep out with it._

_“It’s okay, they told me you would be calling, this is a secure line. Are you will Elliot right now?”_

_Secure line. Good. At least she had her head on straight, unlike the mess I am in. I surge towards the bed at her words, hand shooting out to lace my fingers with Elliot’s motionless ones, seeking comfort from his warmth, the steady beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor evidence of his life._

_“Yes.”_

_I squeeze those fingers and sink down into my seat beside the bed, watching that serene face, pale and calm. He looks like he is just sleeping. I feel tears fall onto our entwined hands and I raise them to place soft kisses along Elliot’s knuckles._

_“Okay, I’m on my way, don’t let anyone near him, I should be the first person he sees when he wakes up.”_

_I breathe against his skin, lips pressed hard enough to bruise against his knuckles, those damn tears still falling. I watch one tear land on the third knuckle of Elliot’s had, gliding down his dark skin, disappearing between his fingers._

_“Okay.”_

_My eyes take in all of him, lying there he looks so small, so fragile. I remember how his body had fallen, how light he had felt as he sagged into my arms, his blood staining my fingers, the only warm thing in that warehouse. That smile on his stupid face that said well done, you did it, I’m so proud of you, you had the strength in you all along._

_A sob escaped me and I drop his hand to wrap my fingers around my mouth, biting down hard on my finger, muffling the sound, squeezing my eyes shut._

_“Tyrell, you did what needed to be done.”_

_Somehow, it doesn’t comfort me to hear it from her, but that one look from Elliot had gave me the strength to call the medics, stay by his side, clutching his hand as they had quickly gone to work, laying him out on that cold ground, pulling the bullet from inside him and sewing him back up again. My Elliot had grasped my hand all the while, knuckles white with the strain, grinding his teeth against the pain as they worked on him, eventually those glassy eyes slipping closed as he passed out from it all._

_I hadn’t let him go, not once, not when they strapped him to the gurney, wheeled him to the van, put him inside. I stayed beside him, covered in his blood, watching his face the entire ride to the secure room they were in now. I only released him when they left us alone, shutting the door behind them and I had picked up the phone to call the number I had memorized for weeks._

_I brush a stray strand of hair from his face and he frowns in his sleep, but otherwise remains still. My hand runs down his arm and I grasp his fingers once more, brushing away those tears._

_“I love him.”_

_My voice is hoarse and broken and sobs wrack through me anew with the confession. I had never said it aloud before._

_“I do too.”_

_Of course she did, but her love for Elliot was like a mother, an esteemed college, a leader. She put Elliot on a pedestal but also pulled him down to fix him up when he went astray. My admiration for the man went far beyond that. I appraised his beautiful mind, his passion and drive to fix this fucked up world. The torture going on inside him, his good and bad. I loved his damaged parts just as much. I craved him, needed to touch him, be near him, have that serene face look at me the way he did, hear his voice, see that rare but beautiful smile. He was everything to me; a leader, a comrade, a friend, a brother, a beloved one._

_The line goes dead and I throw the phone aside, surging up and kissing his forehead gently._

_I sit and watch him for a while longer. I check my watch. Angela would be here in approximately eight minutes._

_I stand and go to the bathroom, flicking on the unforgiving luminescent lights and falter at the sight of myself. I’m a mess. My skin is pale, purplish bags under my eyes. I look tired, messy, so unlike myself. My hair is a mess from the amount of times I drove my fingers through._

_My shirt is still covered in his blood. My hands too._

_A small, sadistic part of me wants to keep it there, a reminder of what I did, and to have a piece of him always against my skin. But I know if he sees me later covered in his blood it could spike panic in him; we don’t know which part of Elliot is going to be waking up to us._

_I undo the buttons slowly, my skin underneath stained red too. I run the tap and scrub at my skin with the soap, watching the reddish, brownish water swirl and drain away. I grab a few paper towel, wet them and wipe at my stomach, shivering at the cold air hitting my wet skin._

_When I’m done I dry myself roughly with the papery towels, scrubbing at my numb skin until it’s red and angry. I pick up my dirty shirt, fix my hair and flick the light off._

_Elliot is still sleeping but he’s moving a bit now; an arm twitching, eyes moving behind his lids, his brow creasing and increasing. I smile at him, anticipation rising in me for when he opens his eyes, but I obey Angela’s orders and leave the room, clicking the door shut behind me as quietly as I can, standing guard in the dark corridor, waiting for Angela to come._

V

I come out of the memory shuddering, clutching Elliot to me, my tears wetting his skin. He struggles in my tight embrace but manages to wriggle down to lie with me, kissing my forehead and pulling me to lie against his breast. He lets me cling to him as I cry, venting my frustrations and my sorry. It had been months since that night, but it still haunted me.

He shushes me and kisses my head softly, hands stroking my skin, his warmth banishing the chill from me. He pulls the covers around us, so it’s just us two.

“I remember that day like it was yesterday,” he says softly, “you were so brave, we didn’t know if it would work, but it worked even better than we could have hoped.”

He pulls away to look at me, smiling softly, “you saved me, Tyrell, you killed him from me, and for that I will always be so grateful.”

He rests against me again, I close my eyes as he strokes my skin, “I remember waking up to see Angela, but I hardly listened to a word she said, all I wanted was to know where you were. You came walking into the room like you were entering a lion’s den. Your eyes were so wide, looking all around you, barely looking at me. You looked so much older, so pale and small.”

I kiss his chest, squeezing my eyes shut, “I was terrified; I didn’t know how you would be when you woke up – which part of you had survived.”

“You didn’t kill any part of me, just rewired my system and fixed my broken bits.”

I fall into a dreamless sleep against him.

When I wake again it is just before dawn. Elliot’s little apartment is still dark.

He’s wrapped up in my arms, his back flush against my chest, my arms wrapped around him, cradling him against me, the fingers of one hand entwined with his. I breathe in the smell of his hair, kissing his neck softly before detaching myself from him, leaving the bed as quietly and gently as I can.

I go to the drawer in his dresser that holds my clothes, pulling out a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. I dress and find my trainers, plugging earphones into my phone and listening to whatever song comes on as I leave the apartment.

I breathe in the dusky morning air as I start jogging, focusing on my breathing, my watch ticking along the seconds. The streets are near enough empty at this time, a few people here and there either coming home from or going to work. Elliot lives in a rough neighbourhood, full of hard working people doing long hours to scrape by. As I jog I move out of the neighbourhood, heading closer to the more expensive living areas, the amount of people around dwindling to just me as I run past clean, well looked after buildings, expensive cars parked in front.

It reminds me of my old life, living in those expensive, beautiful apartments with my wife. I shake those thoughts from my head and jog faster, feeling my thighs begin to burn. That’s in the past now, my life with Elliot is all I need. We’re going to save the world and we’re going to do it together. I smile as I turn a corner, passing an ice cream parlour we had gone to once.

Being with Elliot was amazing, sometimes it was torture.

Sometimes my Elliot would disappear and the other one would appear; the small, timid mess of a man that needed drugs and avoided all social contact to survive. It had been a rollercoaster of confusion at first when I would kiss and make love to this man then turn around to see confused, wide eyes on me, a mind that would completely wipe me.

It was no secret that Elliot was damaged goods. In the beginning, Angela had helped me come to terms with that, laying it all out to me like the aftermath of a wreck, showing me all the little broken, corrupt files that made up Elliot. I had accepted it, trying to understand it and adapt myself to it.

Since the day I had shot him, things had gotten easier.

It had been a cleansing thing for Elliot in a strange way. His mind had reasoned that Mr Robot was the one to die that day, Elliot able to continue on as his own person, his parts fused back together. He didn’t forget me anymore. I didn’t tiptoe around so often, always questioning which part of Elliot I was speaking to now.

It had been a long, slow climb to where we were now.

 

V

 

_I slide my copy of his key into the lock and enter the apartment quickly. It’s always a risk coming here to see him but as soon as that door shuts behind me relief washes over me and I feel safe._

_“What the hell are you doing here?”_

_My heart sinks when I hear that tone. I know instantly it is no longer my Elliot, but I don’t have time to feel sad, I need to calm him, make sure he doesn’t alert anyone like that one time._

_I throw a finger up in front of my lips and shush him hurriedly, turning to close and lock the door behind me._

_“Keep quiet, Elliot!” I scold him, stripping off my blazer and shoes, putting them in their usual places – I learned over time that little things like that jogged his memory slightly, so I always made sure to set up these little triggers for him._

_I turn to see him frown down at my shoes laid neatly beside one another against the wall, I see that tiny spark or recognition in his eyes just before it is banished and he’s staring at me again, bewildered._

_“Why are you here, Tyrell?”_

_I supress the disappointed sigh that is in my throat, “what do you remember, Elliot?”_

_He frowns and looks at the ground, his demeanour shy and awkward once more. It’s always strange to see him this way; completely shut off from me, insecure and unrecognizable as my Elliot who smiles and kisses me and moans my name when I make him come._

_“I…I remember…”_

_“I stayed here last night, Elliot. Do you remember that?”_

_Silence._

_“I’m the one that gave you those marks on your neck.”_

_He frowns at me and his hand rises to rub at his neck, wincing a little as he touches the bruises in the shape of my mouth._

_“M…marks?” He walks over to the mirror, pulling his hoodie over his head and his eyes widen as he sees those red and blue marks peppering his throat, leading down and disappearing into the neckline of his black t-shirt._

_My cock twitches in my trousers at the sight of them, memories come unbidden to my mind of the noises he made when I gave them to him, the tight pressure of his ass around me._

_“What – I don’t – how did you -”_

_Patience is not a virtue of mine; I think as I pace towards him. I stand behind him, not quite touching him yet, meeting his eyes in the mirror._

_“I fucked you against that wall,” I tell him, nodding my chin over to the door, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. I keep my voice soft, I keep still and my gaze steady._

_“You can’t remember because you’ve supressed it again, Elliot. You think it’s your Father you are turning into but really this is the reality you have built for yourself; this shy, unknowing, innocent man.”_

_He’s breathing hard as he stares at me now, brow creased and I know flashback are filling his mind just now, his memory slowly piecing back together again, coming back to himself slowly but surely._

_My head falls to rest against his shoulder, breathing him in, trying with all my might not to just take him in my arms, “come back to me, Elliot, come back to me.”_

_He shrugs me off and turns around, eyes ablaze, “this isn’t real, I’m just not in control,” he stutters out, the tale as old as time coming from him. He can be stubborn when he wants to, making me work for it._

_“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing or if you’re just as delusional as me but you’re wrong, this is all wrong, I am not who you think I am.”_

_“Yes you are!” I’m yelling now, I know I shouldn’t but I grow tired of this façade, tired of having to remind him of me, of what we have. It’s exhausting having to hear him like this, demeaning our relationship to a mere imagination of his or my mind._

_“You are Mr Robot, Elliot. You are the head of a network of hackers and you’re setting in motions to change the world. I have been working with you for over a year now, been in a relationship with you for just under a year and I will not stand here anymore listening to this.”_

_I’m burning with anger now, frustration, exhaustion._

_I watch an ary of emotions flit across his face until his eyes seem to focus on me at last and I watch as he transforms before me. He stands taller, his shoulders are squared, his jaw loosens, his eyes make direct contact with me, he relaxes and his features soften. His eyes water as tears fill them and he bites his lip._

_“Tyrell…Tyrell…I’m so sorry…”_

_And there he is again, my beloved Elliot._

_My hands fly to his face, pulling him towards me and kissing him hard. I hear him sigh into the kiss, hands gripping my waist, nails digging in to my hips, kissing me back with just as much fevered passion._

_Tears prick behind my eyes at the sheer relief of having him back. He is apologising between kisses, reassuring me over and over it was him, he loved me, he was so sorry._

_I kiss him harder, silencing him, wanting to concentrate on just us, just this._

_My hands trail down to the back of his thighs and I pull them up and around my waist, not willing to cease kissing him just yet, walking us over to the bed._

_I lay him down gently on top of the covers, supporting my weight over him, leaning back to look down at him. God, he’s so beautiful. His dark skin so smooth, his wide jawline so hard and defined, those lips so plump and ready to be kissed. His eyes are intense on me, his hands gripping my waist, holding me close like he’s scared I might go away._

_I kiss up his neck, softly peppering those marks there. I lick up the shell of his ear and he shudders, hands gripping me closer as I bite on his lobe, sucking softly, knowing he’s is sensitive here. He bucks up against me, breathing out long sighs, goose bumps cascading over his skin._

_“You’re mine,” I whisper in his ear, kissing his temple when he nods in reply, pulling me closer._

_“I’m yours,” he whispers back, pulling me down to seal our lips again, licking into my mouth, moaning when he tastes me._

_I roll our hips together and he gasps into my ear, clinging to my shoulders, bucking back up against me. I pull away, leaning back and reach for the bottle of lube we keep in the nightstand. His eyes watch my every movement as I screw open the cap and coat my fingers, rubbing them together to warm up the liquid before pressing them against his hole, sliding two digits in. He spreads his legs for me, eyes closing against the slight burn then breathing slow and low as he adjusts. His tight heat around me is heady, making me impatient to be inside him again. I move in and out slowly, curling my fingers up to find that sweet spot when he starts to whimper, bucking down into my hand wanting more._

_I add another finger, then another, until he’s moaning and squirming, the mix of pain and pleasure making his cock throb and leak against his stomach. I crouch down, taking him into my mouth and sucking gently, bobbing my head, running my tongue along the bottom of his shaft, moaning when he hits the back of my throat, his taste and smell filling my senses. He clenches around my fingers, I bob my head in time with my movements inside him, glancing up to watch him writhe and moan against the pillows, hands tugging at his own hair, my name a repeated prayer falling from his lips._

_I slip my fingers back out, answering his whine with sucking harder and faster, pouring some lube into my hands as I do, slicking myself up hurriedly. He’s getting louder and I can feel him twitching against my tongue. I release him with a wet pop, pulling his legs up and over my shoulders and entering him, pushing in until his ass is pressed against my hip bones._

_He’s so damn tight, I groan and lean forwards, pressing my forehead against his, breathing hard as I try to still my hips, the temptation to move and fuck him senseless almost too much. But I want this to be slow, I want to enjoy it, I want to enjoy him, having him with me. He understands, I’m usually like this after one of his episodes._

_His hands move up and down my thighs, he kisses my lips and moves his hips up against me, “Move, Tyrell, please.”_

_I obey his command, pulling myself out slowly, then pushing back in, setting a slow, steady pace that has a tingle build up at the base of my spine and the pit of my stomach. From this angle, I’m moving deep inside him, my cock pressing against his prostate with every thrust and he is moaning and writhing at the torturous, slow pleasure I give him._

_I look down at him through my hair that falls in front of my eyes, his eyes are hooded and dark, love and lust swirling within him, making me shiver and unable to look away from this intense connection._

_I move my hips faster, breathing deeper as I shiver with this intoxicating pleasure, the slow burn in the bit of my soul flaring with every thrust, burning brighter and brighter. He’s moaning and gasping and he’s so damn tight I know I won’t last long, from the sound of him neither will he._

_He moves a hand down to grasp himself but I shake my head, grabbing both his hands, pressing them against the mattress above his head, acing my fingers with his, “No…just like this…come from just me.”_

_He nods at my demand and I thrust in again, watching his face contort in pleasure, head thrown back into the mattress, gasping and arching into me. I move faster and faster until I’m completely lost in the sensations. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of the headboard banging against the wall, his hands squeezing mine harder and harder, his breathy moans turning louder and louder._

_I’m so close now, so lost in him, watching his face; mouth open, lips red and wet, brow creased and eyes boring intensely into mine, conveying all the love and passion and fire inside him that is mirrored in me._

_I lean down and kiss him hard, moving faster inside him, moaning against him, feeling my release building faster and faster inside me._

_“Come for me, Elliot, let me see you.”_

_“God, Tyrell…yes – I’m – I’m coming…ah!”_

_He’s so fucking beautiful, arching into me, eyes closed, mouth calling out my name, hands squeezing mine, his release spurting hot between us. I come undone by him, shooting deep inside him, groaning loudly into his neck, biting down on his skin, whimpering and moaning as my entire body is flared in ecstasy._

_We stay like that for a while, trembling against one another, breathing hard, skin on fire, the smell of our deed swimming in the air._

_His hands move up and down my thighs and I sigh against him, kissing his neck before slipping out of him, pulling his body to lie on top of mine, not giving a fuck about our mess. He’s jelly-limbed and sleepy but he nuzzles his face into my neck, tangling our legs together and wrapping himself around me. I stroke up and down his back, kissing his hair._

_I fall asleep to the sound of his soft “I love you,” breathed against my skin._

_When we wake it’s the middle of the night._

_He smiles lazily up at me as he watches me pull on my dressing gown, throwing his over to him and going to sit on the couch. He shuffles over to me, tying the sash as I light a cigarette, plopping down beside me, pressing his body into my side._

_We sit sharing the cigarette in comfortable silence when I feel him jerk beside me, bolting to sit up straight in the chair._

_My stomach sinks when those bewildered eyes meet mine again and I could cry and punch something right there and then._

_“Bonsoire, Elliot,” I drawl, too tired to be gentle with him this time. He’s snapped me right out of the warm, content feeling I had just before this._

_“Tyrell – how did you-”_

_“You invited me over,” I say, unable to muster the strength to do this properly._

_“I-wh-”_

_“Here,” I hold out the cigarette to him and he looks between it and me. Just when I am about to lose my patience and pull my hand back he reaches out for it, taking it between slim fingers and bringing it to his lips. I watch as his cheeks hollow out as he inhales and try not to think too much about how familiar that sight is._

_“The first time I had a cigarette I vomited.”_

_He stiffens and I could laugh at how confused he looks._

_“It’s true,” I continue, looking straight ahead of me, unable to look at this stranger face, “My friends stole a carton from a local shop and we all went down to the beach to smoke them. We all thought we were so cool until one boy light the wrong end, me and another boy chocked on the taste and smoke, he recovered but I kept choking until I vomited.”_

_He’s quiet, sitting still. I reach for the cigarette, pull it from his fingers and take a long drag, sighing as my lungs are filled and my head clears a little._

_“I told you this story once before,” I tell him, smiling at the memory of Elliot rolling around naked in the bed, shaking with mirth, “You laughed so hard you nearly fell off the bed.”_

_He frowns and stares off in front of him, no doubt surprised to hear he laughed freely around me._

_“I wish I could remember.”_

_I could almost believe it’s my Elliot back again, his voice is so soft and familiar. But my Elliot remembers everything I tell him, he loves to hear about my childhood in Sweden, I’ve exhausted the stories I have about my childhood telling him them all._

_“This isn’t good for you. This kind of thing is damaging.”_

_It’s my turn to be confused this time; usually this Elliot doesn’t remember any of our relationship, never mind sympathise with me for it._

_He takes the cigarette back, eyes avoiding mine as he takes two long drags, breathing out the cloud of smoke and watching it float lazily in the air above up._

_“I know I don’t remember everything, sometimes I don’t remember anything at all. But now, I remember you telling me before that we were together, that you and I…” he falters and I chuckle despite the situation when he gestures awkwardly at the wall._

_“Ah, you’re talking about when I told you I fucked you against the wall.”_

_I smile as I watch him blush, running a hand over his head in that self-conscious manner of his._

_“Yes,” he mumbles out, then we are silent again._

_“You prefer him to me, don’t you?”_

_That question is unexpected. I turn to look at him, he’s making himself busy with stubbing out the dying cigarette and lighting another one. The flame from the lighter lights up his face softly and that surge of warmth grows in my chest as I take in his profile._

_“You’re both very different, but you’re also the same person. He isn’t another existence, Elliot, you are one and the same, just different parts.”_

_“That’s not an answer.”_

_I sigh, taking the cigarette back off him, filling the silence with my breathing as I smoke it halfway down, gathering my thoughts trying to figure out how I am going to say this._

_“It’s just…whenever you talk about him…the other me – you’re always smiling; you seem to miss him. He’s more open with you. He can give you what you want. Perhaps I should just stay away and let you be with him.”_

_I growl at that, leaning forwards and stubbing the cigarette out in the tray then turning to him, holding his face in my hands, “Elliot, you are him. He is you. I don’t want just one of you. I want all of you, every part. I love you just as much as him. I know in your head he’s a completely different part of you but to me, it is you, just a different you.”_

_His face falls but he doesn’t pull away from my hold, “but you prefer it when I go away?”_

_“No,” I tell him firmly, “I wish you would never go away, I wish we were always together. I wish you could remember when I kiss you, when I touch you. I wish you could remember our first real date, or our first real fight. More than anything, I wish I could just be with you, no matter what form that takes.”_

_He’s just staring at me now. He’s so hard to figure out like this, I can’t see any expression on his face, I have no idea what to do, what to say._

_His hands come up to my wrists, I think he’s going to push me off but they just rest there, fingers tracing my skin so gently, so carefully._

_I realise he’s moving in my hands, towards me. My heart starts thundering as he gets closer, his lips pressing softly against mine._

_This is different. I have ever kissed this Elliot. It’s always been explaining myself to him then relief when he shifts back into the Elliot that is mine, that kisses me and makes love to me._

_This is the Elliot that doesn’t remember me, but still he’s kissing me._

_It’s such a gentle, shy kiss. I’m too taken off guard to respond properly. My mind is racing and I just let him lead, let him kiss me how he wants._

_He pulls away and just stares up at me, my confused expression no doubt comical._

_“I might not remember everything,” he says slowly, “and he might be very different to me. But I remember parts of you; I remember feeling happy around you. I don’t want to keep forgetting that.”_

_I nod but don’t have any other response._

_We sit in silence, smoking a few more cigarettes until the morning light filters through the windows._

 

V

 

Elliot is still fast asleep when I return. I dump my bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and strip off my sweaty clothes, dumping them into the rusty washing machine and head to the bathroom, not before pecking Elliot’s cheek softly as I pass.

The hot water feels good on my skin, the sweat and grime washing away down the drain as I rub the soap into my shoulders, head thrown back so the water falls onto my face. I feel refreshed after my jog, the cold air of outside, my blood pumping around my body, the strain of my muscles, all making me feel awake and fresh.

The falling water occupies my ears so I don’t hear the bathroom door creaking open. My eyes are closed as I rise soap off my face so I don’t see the curtain pulled back and the body slip in beside me. I am only alerted to Elliot’s presence when a hand cups my hip and a chin presses against my shoulder.

I tense a little in fright but relax as soon as I realize its him. I turn to see his smiling, beautiful face looking up at me, all sleep ruffled and bleary eyed and my heart warms at the sight of him.

 “Good morning, Tyrell.”

 “Good morning, Elliot.”

He squints as I move, the water raining down on him, wetting his skin, slicking his hair to his scalp. He shivers and leans into me as his body adjusts to the change of heat, shoulder hunched as he huddles against my chest, seeking my heat and more coverage of the hot water raining down on my back and head.

I chuckle and reach for the soap, lathering it up in my hands before rubbing it into his skin. I start with his back, rubbing big circles into him, pressing down on those certain tense areas, feeling him relax, unwinding slowly against me.

“My ass hurts,” he mumbles into my shoulder.

I laugh at that, pulling his chest against mine, my hands moving lower down is back, lathering his ass cheeks up with soap, kneading the flesh, enjoying how he leans into me sighing against my neck. I dip my hand between his cheeks, massaging his entrance, feeling his cock twitch and fill a little at the attention.

“I’ll make it feel better,” I murmur, hands moving round to his stomach, rubbing soap into his toned skin, gently caressing here and there watching him jump and shiver. I move up to his chest, running the soap in lazy circles around his nipples, getting closer and closer before flicking it over them. I rub my thumbs across the hardened peaks, pinching the and rolling them between my thumb and forefinger until his breathing is heavier, his eyes are closed and he’s swaying into my touch.

My hands trail lower again, palming his semi-hard member, stroking him gently, running a thumb across the sensitive tip and he jerks and gasps, head falling against my shoulder, hands gripping onto my forearms. He grows in my hand, eagerly responding to my touch. I reach behind him and unclip the shower head from its holder, bringing it down to rinse away the suds from Elliot’s body. I direct the spray across his chest, deliberately aiming for his nipples, watching him grin and jerk at the feeling, chest moving up and down as his arousal grows.

I ignore the chill in my skin when the warm water no longer touches me, favouring watching Elliot squirm as I stroke him harder, rinsing the spray over his abs, down to his groin, across his hip bones. He’s fully hard by now, breathing hard, eyes open and dark, desire and lust swirling in them.

I surge forwards, attaching his lips to mine, reaching behind him to clip the showerhead back in its place, shivering when the warm water cascades over my skin again, heating the chill. He pulls me against him, kissing me thoroughly, tongue ticking my teeth and he lends his heat to me.

I growl into his mouth as his teeth trail my bottom lip, pushing him up against the cold tiles, grinning at his resulting gasp and how he shies away from the cold touch, pressing his body into mine. We groan against each other’s lips when his hardness grinds into mine, my hands automatically grasping his ass, pulling him against me, breathing hot into his mouth at the feeling.

He reaches between us and strokes me as I do him, breathing hot into my mouth until we each reach our completion.

“Tyrell…”

I never thought I would need this so much; need someone’s skin against my own to the point I am jittery and itchy the more prolonged the absence is. I never thought I would be so loving towards someone, so open and needy and desperate for their attention. Every fibre of my being craved Elliot, I needed him near me or I simply couldn’t function.  Our relationship was never easy nor the most orthodox, sure it was simpler now that he was no longer haunted by the echo of his father but still, we had our good days and bad.

When I was with my wife, the bad days were all I could remember. I was filled with rage and ambition, striving to be more, to have more, to do better, taking out my pent up frustrations on things; smashing up a room, beating up some low life desperate for my money, fucking my way to the top. There had been no love there, not even affection, just ambition, using each other for what we wanted and discarding each other when it was done.

But with Elliot, it was so different. This strange man with his awkward glances, his monotonous, quiet voice, his big, gazing eyes that seemed to see right into my soul. The operation had been what brought us together at first. My life had been eclipsed by this quiet man, sitting at his cubicle, seemingly so innocent and awkward. When I had realised there was so much more to him than that It had ignited an ambition in me I hadn’t understood before. His mission to save the world, to expose the corrupt, to help those unfortunate seemed impossible and futile to me at first, after all I had been one of those corrupt men he would expose. But I had watched him, learned him, eventually shown the operation and he and Angel had invited me in. I had loved it, finding a passion in me I never knew existed. For one I enjoyed the work, enjoyed the danger as well as the simplicity.

I remember the first moment I had truly felt the love for what we were doing. The people of the city had rallied to Fsociety, marching the streets in their numbers, each made anonymous and linked by the masks they wore on their faces. The banners and signs held high and proud, supporting our cause and fighting with it. Elliot had grabbed my hand, pulling his hoodie over his head, gesturing to me to do the same with mine. He slipped the mask over my face, grinning at me through the eye slits. I grinned back as he disappeared behind his own, letting myself be led by his hand out into the streets. We had walked hand in hand among the protestors, the two of us as anonymous as them. I had laughed out loud, the noise echoing in my ears through the mask as we marched, feeling out cause around us as an alive thing. I had felt elated, euphoric, the passion and drive I had been desperately seeking in my life a real thing in that moment. I was filled with wonder at what we had achieved, squeezing the warm hand in mine and revelled in feeling my purpose. I was so grateful to him in that moment, revering the small man beside me as a god among men.

I enjoyed being with him; his different personas blending together to a colour I wanted to paint my world with. I became fascinated with how he spoke, how he was so clever; working out every detail of his plans, making them seem so simple. I liked to watch his fingers type when he sat at his computer, punching in code after code, a little wrinkle between his brow as he concentrated. I loved his silence, when he was deep in the circuits of his mind, working out this and that, delving into thoughts so deep it would take me a lifetime to understand.

An unspoken understanding had developed between us, an understanding that grew into a heavy tension that turned into a sparking electric current that developed into a burning flame. He consumed me and I went gladly, following him as my leader, my brother and my lover.

My hands hold him closer, my kiss deepens, I moan into him, tears pricking behind my eyes at the complete, devastating love I feel for this man. He cups my face in his hands and I look down at him through my tears. I don’t have to explain myself to him, I don’t need to tell him all the thoughts that were storing through my brain, how my chest physically burns with my love for him. He knows, he knows it all. So he just smiles and kisses me, wrapping his arms around my neck, standing on his tip toes, pressing his body against mine, smiling when I wrap my arms around him, holding his every inch against me.

“I love you, Tyrell,” he says against my skin.

My hands rub up and down his back, kissing his temple, closing my eyes just to relax in his embrace. Love is too small a word for what I feel for him, I will never do my feeling justice, but it’s all I can offer him for now.

“I love you, Elliot.”

**Author's Note:**

> älskling - darling  
> Jag älskar dig - i love you  
> Jag älskar dig också - i love you too


End file.
